Genetically Predisposed
by Twilight the dark angel
Summary: Scarecrow is out of Arkham,ready to send a new wave of fear over Gotham,but to do this he's going to need a little help from Audrey Flemings,who is in-capable of feeling fear. Will he be able to break her or will she out wit him and save her city? OC'sPOV
1. Chapter 1

The bus ride had been uneventful, and I regret now not having enjoyed it to the fullest when I could have. My last class had left me energized, as it usually did. Napping through the drone of my history teacher, who never bothered to ask questions of the back of the room, usually did that to me. The bus had stopped and dropped off the rest of my fellow students as per custom until it was only me and a two other students, a brother and sister, left. I never really talked to them, or any one on my bus for that matter, but now I regret it. When the bus stopped in front of my house, I quickly got up from my seat in the third to last row and walked past the brother and sister, with only a brief nod, that only the brother returned. I said 'Thanks' to the driver as I always did and as always he said in return "Any time".

I remember being grateful that it was the weekend and enjoying the brief freedom provided by the only two days in the week were my life was not planned out for me. I climbed the small stair way that lead to my door. When I reached the porch, I turned and waved back at the driver who never left unless he saw his charge safely into their home. He was an okay driver, better then the majority of drivers who simply viewed their job as shuttling brats from point A to B. I remember one time when he had yelled angrily after breaking up a fight on his bus,

"Driving you guys, while we all make our journey home through Gotham, is not only my responsibility but also protecting you from all the loons in this city is too. And if that means protecting you from each other then so be it, but no one's going to be able to say that I let one of you get hurt on my watch."

I never even asked his name, which seemed normal at the time, but now seems neglectful and sad.

I took out my keys, opened to door, and went in.

That's when routine ended. My parents car keys where both in the ceramic bowl I had made when I was in 4th grade; which rested on the table next to the door. My parents were rarely at home at the same time. I listened quietly for a few seconds. I heard nothing. And there was hardly a time where my parents weren't arguing about something. I dropped my keys into the bowl with the rest of them.

"Mom...Dad..." I called.

My mother then answered, her voice calm and even, "In here dear."

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. My mother never called me 'dear' and even more unsettling was that her voice had come from the dinning room that was to the left of the front door. No one but me ever eat in there, my mother always eating in the kitchen and my father in his office. We were that kind of family, the kind that never eat together, the family who's parents were always fighting, but it was normal to me. I can't remember a time where it had been different. My mind automatically thought of the worse case scenario, we were having a 'family dinner'. I sneered a bit at the thought of such a ridiculous concept.

Eating required neither company nor conversation so why would I need either. It was all some idea created by the PTA of some school who wanted to explain the reason as to why their children acted the way they did. Because it was never that it could be the parents fault in the first place. Teenagers simply lack the joyful experience of watching others eat.

I walked toward the swinging door that lead into my dinning room and waited there a second,

"Why are you in the dinning room, mom?" I only asked to see if there was any actual need for me to go into the room. At that moment I would have preferred to go to my room and start to read the small pile of books that I had gathered from the library.

"What kind of question is that? Come in here!" my father responded angrily for my mother. I rolled my eyes for about the hundredth time over the fact that after fifteen years my father still didn't understand that I could _never_ be intimidated my his "serious business" voice.

Without further hesitation I quickly pushed the door open and entered the room not wanting to have to hear him speak again. My mother and father where there, along with eight other men who I had never seen before in my life. Mother looked calm and in control of herself, but I could tell that she wanted to run from the room screaming. No amount of acting training could fool me when it came to what my mother was thinking and feeling. Father's forehead was creased very similarly as to when he was signing papers in his office. To anyone else he would have looked deep in concentration but to me he looked overwhelmed and alone.

They were both seated at the table on either side of one of the men , who sat at the head of the table. I instantly disliked him for taking my seat. He was the only one of the strange men who wasn't wearing all black clothing that looked like ski wear and more importantly the only one who was not armed to the teeth. I did a quick count of how many guns there were. Each of the skiers had two glock 19s and on big assault riffle type thing on their backs. I knew that each mag for the glock had 33 bullets at most thanks to far too much History Channel specials on guns. I quickly tried to think of how many bullets there where in the room, glocks alone.

66

462

There where at least 462 bullets in my dinning room. More or less 150 bullets for my mother, father, and me if we upset these men. Although I was certain that they only needed to place one correctly to achieve any goal. Death or intimidation, simple as that.

The man in my seat, wore a business suit with a red tie. He had on the type of glasses that had no rims so you could barely see them from far away. His ice blue eyes gazed at me calmly as he stood up.

"Please, come in. Sit."

AN: Hello Everyone! Thank you so much for reading this chapter! It would be great if you could tell me what you thought, granted this was only a taste. No flames please, but I still want to hear your honest opinions, so let's agree on: honest but polite, ya? Question: I like responding to reviews but I'm always uncertain if you guys actually get them, so could you tell me next chapter if you do?

("What Shadows Bring" readers): I'm so sorry for not posting in a long time but I'm currently stock piling chapters so that you get packets of chapters and not wait so long, but that also means that there will be gaps in between packets so I apologize for that in advance.


	2. Meet The Parents

"Please, come in. Sit."

He had meant those words to sound host like, but they sounded more like commands to me. I though about how familiar his face seemed as I walked to the chair at the opposite end of his. I had wanted to be as far away from that man as possible. With the guns, I was weary of all of their movements to the point of paranoia. They looked like the type of people, that if they didn't have their guns, I still wouldn't have invited them in. Each one had his own variation of a concentrated scowl or glare. One even with a thinly vailed leer. I knew in my gut that none of these men were to be trusted in any sort of circumstance.

"I was just talking to your parents about my living arrangements" his voice and expression were that of a practiced calm. It was the type of calm that was always presented by my therapists when they would first meet me. Then I realized who he was,

"And why would my parents be harboring a wanted criminal, Dr. Crane?" I asked imitating his calm, and slightly indifferent, tone all the while crossing my arms as nonchalantly as possible and stopping next to the chair. He chuckled humorlessly for a brief moment. The men around him seemed to shift slightly with unease. They were without a doubt afraid of him. I wondered what had made them get into this in the first place. I wondered how I had gotten into this. I looked at my parents who seemed even more on edge then they had been before. This tells me that they hadn't realized who they were dealing with before I had mentioned his name. Crane stopped chuckling and merely said,

"Sit, Ms. Flemings"

I complied with a look of distaste on my face. I hated it when people called me 'Ms. Flemings'. The need to attach a title to a minor's name seemed illogical to me. Most teenage girls will be 'Ms.' because only a rare few would ever marry that young and most teenage boys are male—or else we would call them female—thus there is no need to state it in a different way.

"My name is Audrey, Dr. Crane. There's no need to be stupid and call me 'Ms. Flemings'. I'm not your kindergarten teacher."

The comment must have seemed too upfront to him because he took of his glasses and stared at me. I could imagine that he was not to happy about being called stupid as well.

"I'd like to explain to you exactly what is going on—"

"Stop trying to be so polite while you hold me and my family hostage. If you're going to threaten to tie us up if we don't behave, that kinda goes without saying. Furthermore if you're going to say 'We'll let you live if you cooperate fully' we all know that's a lie. Just tell me what you're using us for and you won't have to explain or draw out your instructions anymore then you have already."

The look on his face was priceless. He looked not only taken aback but angry too. I couldn't help it, I laughed. The dry laugh that seemed to come out when an adult first realized that I was not quite like all other teenagers, who would simply listen to everything they had to say. My time is mine, no matter how apparent adults make it that they think otherwise.

To Crane's credit, he regained his composure relatively soon and straightened his tie.

"We'll be using this house as a hide out and using you and your parents as cover so no one suspects we're here. You will go to school, your parents work, and you will all be watched carefully. If you inform anyone that we are here you and your parents will suffer a fate worse then death. Do you understand me?"

It wasn't that hard of a concept to grasp, so there was no need to respond, but I did want answers,

"Why us?"

Crane looked ready to answer my question because he smiled slightly,

"Well you see," he placed a hand on my father's shoulder, "Your father here has done very interesting medical research for the army and I would like to study it quite closely."

My father paled. This only delighted Crane. He had only answered my question because it would serve his purpose. He could intimidate my father and inform him as to what he was going to be doing, as well as keep me compliant.

I knew very little about my father's work besides the fact that he worked odd hours and was the head of a department that researched medically related things for the army. What could my father have been working on that had interested the 'Scarecrow'?

"Would you care to elaborate on that."

It was a long shot even thinking that he would tell me a small detail about his master plan. Villains only reveal what they have in store for their victims in movies and cartoons. Plus, since he was a doctor I assumed that he would be smart.

"Your father's research is very similar to my own compound, with a few special variations."

Well. . .you know what they say about assuming. 'It makes an ass out of you and me'.

I recalled all the information pertaining to the incident with Crane's fear toxin. The police had been able to give all the effected citizens an antidote that they had some how created. Everyone else had also received an inoculation shot, but that hadn't stopped Crane from using his toxin on other people once he had broken out of Arkham. Apparently the antidote only works for a few months. Now every citizen of Gotham must go to the doctor for their regular shot, or risk going through what victims described as 'a living hell hole where all your nightmares are real and after you'.

Whatever he wanted with my father's work I couldn't let him win.

"What makes you think that my father will let you get at his research?" I tried vainly to sound challenging. I knew all to well that my father would give this man anything he asked for just to keep his life. What if Crane figured out that once my father got him through the door he wouldn't need my father for much longer?

My father looked at me when he heard my words. I could see a glimmer of hope in his eyes. I instantly felt guilty. He thought that I had faith in him. I didn't. I had no delusions about who he was or what he would do when it all came down to it.

Crane's facial expression didn't change very much. He seemed cold and slightly distant.

"Well for one he fears me", he then looked at my father with a glare, "Although I've been informed that you are unable to fear me; or anything else for that matter."

I tried to hide the initial shock that I felt, but I must have failed because Crane then said,

"Oh yes. I know about your. . . slight condition. Another reason 'why you'; you are going to be my little guinea pig."

My inability to feel fear was one of my family's most well guarded secrets. When I was a toddler and the doctors had informed my parents of my condition, they had chosen to not inform our relatives and move to Gotham. No one in our family would dare come to visit. By the time I was in second grade my whole family had started acting classes so I would be able to pretend to be afraid of things and my parents able to lie to my teachers if they ever suspected something. No one was informed of my condition besides my doctor, who would need to know everything if complications arose due to the fact that I'm missing a big part of my DNA that corresponds to fear, both the production of fear hormones and the receptors.

I wouldn't allow myself to be blocked into obsessing about how Crane had found this out. Instead I needed to get ahead of him. My father's research had something to do with Crane's 'compound'. His 'compound' must be the fear toxin he used. That meant that my father had been trying to make something close to it, and since he wanted to use me, then he must have wanted something so potent that it could effect someone who was genetically unable to feel fear. To a normal human that would be a deadly over dose.

"You're planning on whipping out all of Gotham in a huge fear toxin over dose." I said pretending to be bored with the whole idea. To be honest it was a bit boring. I hadn't been required to figure out much, since Crane had given me more then enough information. I felt no dread or urgency to stop this event because that would require fear on a basic level, fear of death. I knew in my head that I couldn't allow Crane to kill everyone in Gotham without so much as a little resistance.

"I'm glad I didn't have to explain everything to you" Crane said a little bored as well. For some reason his face suddenly became far to arrogant and annoying to stand. He had no problem with killing millions of people as long as they were scared while dieing. How had he even been able to reach adulthood without someone noticing that something was extremely wrong with this man?

"Okay listen" my voice sounded as annoyed as I felt and I didn't care. "I don't care what you do or how you go about your business. Just keep my life running as normal as possible and we'll be fine."

I rose from my seat. My mother tried to say something but was cut off by Crane who raised a hand for silence. I didn't like the idea of having my back to the unsavory group of people in the room. I didn't feel like giving them the opportunity to ambush me from behind but I turned and headed to toward the door.

"Don't think of resisting or escaping either." Crane called to me. "You wouldn't want to become an orphan, now would you."

I stopped in my tracks and turned to face the most annoying person I had ever met.

"Oh!Okay!One", I scoffed sarcastically,"you can't kill my father because you need him to get to his research. Two, you can't kill my mom because I think a lot of people would notice if a well know theater actress went missing. Three, the worst you could do to them is stick their hands in the toaster but it would be really hard for these two genii to explain that away to everyone. And finally: threats only work on normal people because they can fear the future and consequences, so smarten up Dr. Crane and stop trying."

I left the room before he could say something else stupid and headed down the hallway to where the base of the stairs were along with the door that lead to the kitchen. I heard the swinging door open. I turned to see one of the men with guns fallowing me. Crane probably had sent him to watch me and make sure that I didn't call the police, or Pizza Hut, while I was out of his sight.

I didn't want this man to get the chance to enter my room, so I ran to the stairs and quickly climbed to the second floor, taking the steps two at a time. I could hear that the man had started to run after me. That only made me slightly laugh under my breath. I had already made it to the second floor by the time he had made it up three steps. I made a sharp right down the second floor hallway that ran parallel to the one on the first floor. Then dashed into my room that was the second door to the right and the last room in that hallway. Once inside my room I quickly turned and waited until the man was almost at the door, then quickly slammed the door in his face and locked it. I heard something hit the door on the other side and the man's muffled yells. I laughed a bit at his silly antics and waited for a few seconds to see if the man would do anything. I was a little disappointed when he didn't even try to open the door. I was in the mood to kick someone squarely in the chest.

AN: Hello again! Hope you like this chapter, review and tell me. And I know that the tenses get a bit confussing at some points, but you'll see why in the end.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Batman Begins. I only own Audrey, her parents and the plot.


End file.
